


Paper Straw

by kaulayau



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Family Drama, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Infrequent Cartoon Violence, also, because this one isn’t R-rated by a long shot but it has too many swears to be PG-13, children are involved, it’s weird rating these fics?, so coolio dudes, the Hargreeves are trying very hard to Parent®, well one child at least yo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 01:34:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18297638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaulayau/pseuds/kaulayau
Summary: “So what’s going on?” he asks his sister. Her mouth is a thin line. Diego’s got to do something about this. “Who do I need to cross out on the agenda?”“I got pregnant,” Allison says.Oh.border border borderDiego is the best uncle that the world has ever seen. Though he’s got to prove it first.





	Paper Straw

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of want to watch Love, Death, and Robots but where is The Time

[His first weapon was a butterfly knife. He was five-years-old. By one month, he knew all the tricks. By two, he didn’t even have to look. Klaus always tried to throw him off in a flip, just for shits.

It worked once.

Diego almost cut through his index finger.

Klaus’s face was fucking ridiculous. Diego’s finger sprayed, and sprayed, and sprayed, and sprayed. And Klaus literally fucking threw a blanket over it. Allison had to mediate.

That must have fucked them up, actually.]

* * *

“There’s no such thing as a mission only _you_ can do,” Luther’s telling their sister. Diego is inclined to agree. “We’re supposed to be doing everything side-by-side. Umbrella Academy? Right? Pogo and Mom are always around, too.”

“It’s only for three days,” Allison says. “Not like when you or Ben leave for _weeks_. And it’s not just me, either. Vanya’s abandoning all of you.”

“Don’t,” says Vanya, “don’t loop me in. I mean, yeah, I’m going with you to kill this guy, but. I kind of don’t want to. The consequences are dire. I’m leaving out of a necessity thing.” She grins.

Allison crosses her arms. “Okay. Fine by me. Just.” She looks at them. At Klaus, and Luther, and Five, and Ben. At Diego, too. “You’re not going to tear up the house?”

“No,” say Five, and Luther, and Ben.

“I mean,” says Klaus.

Diego squints in his direction. “I’ll… I’ll keep an eye on them.”

“You better have three pairs of eyes,” Vanya says. That’s not exactly in Diego’s skillset.

“I can _go_ with you,” Luther offers.

“They only have two tickets,” says Klaus. “And you won’t fit in the luggage.”

Luther waves him away. “What if you get hurt?”

“Obviously,” says Vanya. She’s smirking a little. “These types of pedophiles are pretty fucking dangerous. And Allison doesn’t know any actual French.”

Allison glares at her. “I thought you didn’t want to get looped in.”

“Fuck,” says Vanya. “Okay. Sorry.”

“What if,” says Ben. And they know what he’s going to say, so they don’t touch on it further.

(Plus Diego smacks his arm.)

“I’ll help you with your bags,” Five says.

Allison nods. “Thanks. That would be fucking great.”

“Me, too,” say Klaus and Ben. Luther joins the chorus.

Diego steps in. “I’ll —”

“Shut up and check on Claire?” Allison finishes. She puts on a smile — eyebrows raised, cheeks pulled. “I don’t want to leave her. But she never gets up before nine, and… we need to go.”

“All right.” That’s how it’ll be.

They amble in their hallway — and they embrace in a seven-pointed circle. It’s how these things go, for the most part.

“Everything’s going to be okay, right?” Allison asks.

And they all say, “Yeah.” Even Vanya.

And now Diego has to shut up and fucking check on his niece.

* * *

[This is their typical stomping ground — and this is their normal booth. Just for the two of them. Just for their words. Diego told the others about it, for sure. But at least for now, the restaurant’s just for Allison and him, specially reserved. But, hey. Ramen this fucking good is worth it keeping mum about it for the most part. And Allison loves the shit out of hakuto jelly. He’s given Mom the recipes — the cook shared it with him — she even made Diego swear on his life not to sell it anywhere — but she can’t capture the fucking _essence_ of these things exactly. Allison agrees completely.

(Sorry, Mom. All in love. Mrs. Kudo’s just too fucking good.)

Pissed? Japanese food. Drunk? Japanese food. Broken bones? Japanese food. Asshole ex? Japanese food. Crying? Japanese food, the whole nine yards.

When they found out that their father was fucking murdered, yeah, when they were nineteen, what did they do? They ordered some fucking Japanese food. Mrs. Kudo sent her condolences (she gave them a ton of free shit) _,_ and he and Allison went on their fucking way.

It’s Wednesday. Sake’s half-off. Allison didn’t order any.

“So what’s going on?” he asks his sister. Her mouth is a thin line. Shit. Today’s a _pissed_ day. Diego’s got to do something about this. “Who do I need to cross out on the agenda?”

“I got pregnant,” she says.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

“No,” he says. He puts down his chopsticks first. “No. Shut the fuck up. No fucking way. Oh, my God.” Fuck. People are looking over. He’s got to calm down. He’s got to put his hands down. _Down._ Okay. Fuck. This is _news._ This is fucking _breaking_. “How fucking — how could you?” That doesn’t sound right. That’s not what he wants to say. “Did you think about it? How — how. Did you — did — did — did you even — why didn’t you. Why didn’t you. I. Fuck. Allison, okay. Uh.” Hold on. “Wait, for real?”

She puts her head down on the table. “For real.”

Oh, God.

“Is it Luther’s?”

“ _Shit_ ,” she says. Well, is it? “Diego, _no_. It’s — it’s _not_.”

Oh, thank God. Thank God that it was just a puberty thing. Just a phase. Thank Jesus. Okay. Wait.

“So why didn’t you tell Luther first?” he wants to know. “Why not — fucking, like — Vanya?” He’s not going to ask about Klaus. And they both know Ben would fucking bawl. (And, well, Five isn’t here. But they both know how _he’d_ react.)

“I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t, fucking, I mean. I told Vanya when I found out.” Oh. Obviously. “And Luther… Luther would get so upset.”

“And _you_ ,” says Diego, “didn’t think _I_ would get upset at this?” He feels like his fucking brain’s about to shoot out. (Good thing he’ll point it in the right direction.)

“Not as upset as him.”

Fuck. Diego’s not helping, is he. “Immaculate conception?”

“ _No_.” But she smiles at that, just a little, so it’s probably on the right track.

“Then who?” he asks. Unless it _is_ an immaculate conception, and she just doesn’t want him to know.

“You know that dude,” she says, “I met at the bus stop?”

“ _Fuck_.” There are families in this restaurant. But he tips fifty percent, so maybe it’s okay. “ _Bus stop_ dude?”

Allison pretends she’s not embarrassed. “Bus stop dude.”

Shit.

What’s more to fucking say?

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” She ducks her head. “I’m not ready. I’m not.” She doesn’t look at him. “I know our — I know he... loved us, kind of. And I know you look at things differently when you’re older. But what if I’m a parent, and I end up. I end up like.”

Oh. That’s.

Right.

Yeah.

He takes her hand from under the table.

“You’re not.” He knows that. “But what are going to do now?

She sighs. “It's just. It’s not like I’m a _teenager_. We’re almost _thirty_.” Twenty-seven. “It’s not like we’re — I don’t know. Struggling to get by.” Justice makes a living. “But… Diego.”

Her voice is small.

Yeah. “I — know. Like. I mean. I. I don’t. Just. Fucking.” It looms like a fucking funeral. “You’re gonna keep it, right?” That seems like the intelligent thing to ask.

Allison reaches for her glass with her other, freer hand. She sips from her water, and it seems as if she’s thinking about it.

“Like,” she says. “I guess.”]

* * *

Mom’s helping out Claire — but Claire’s crying, and Diego guesses that Mom’s not completely programmed for that. “I can take over from here.” Mom smiles at him, and goes. All right. “Come on.” Oh, Claire. “Hey. Hi. Come on.” He picks her up. “Okay. Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to wait?” He usually has to wait.

She clings to his vest. “I had a bad dream.”

Oh. So he doesn’t have to wait.

“Bad dream?” he says. “Do you remember what it was? What was it? Claire. What was the dream?” He gives her a minute. The minute passes. “Okay. Fine. Be that way.”

She’s playing with his fingers now. (God, her hands are so _tiny._ )

“This one’s from a butterfly,” she says, pointing at his scar.

God. God. “I — I — uh, you’re right — you’re right. Butterfly.”

“What about that one?” Claire points at his face.

Well. It was a fight with a drug cartel. Turns out Diego’s not the only guy who’s good with knives. But the cartel ended up with all their throats slit anyway, and their base destroyed. It was a garage. Luther got all the hostages out first, of course.

“Same thing.”

* * *

[Vanya takes Allison to the hospital. Diego, Luther, Ben, Klaus, and (as a recent addendum, fucking) Five are forced to follow after them separately. Traffic’s a bitch. They’re at the birth clinic by an hour. Vanya let the doctor know they were coming, and the room was ready beforehand.

“I’m sorry,” says a nurse, halting them. “We can’t just let anyone into the delivery room. We have a policy on that. Unless one of you can prove that you’re her partner.”

“I am,” says Diego.

“It’s me,” says Luther.

“Oh, I’m the _father_ ,” says Klaus.

“I can prove it,” says Ben.

And Five says, “Me.”

At that point, they are not allowed to visit until afterwards. (The nurse caught the bluff when Five opened his mouth. Thirteen-year-old-looking bitches aren’t normally culprits.

But maybe it was Klaus that ended them off.)

Vanya said she was Allison’s girlfriend. So she stayed.

They took a couple of the classes, too, apparently. Diego didn’t know those were a thing.]

* * *

They’ve already been bombarded with messages from Allison and Vanya. Allegedly, they’ve just boarded the plane.

“When did you learn how to feed yourself?” Klaus is asking her. “I can’t even do that. I don’t know where to start.” He’s sitting on the couch with Claire. Allison never lets her eat on the couch, so they’ll let her. Naturally. “Fine. That’s fine, Princess. But I’m stealing your goddamn — gosh-darn supply cup.”

“Shut up,” says Ben. “We’re doing patty-cake.” Evidently, they are. Ben’s cheating, though. He’s using his tentacles as leverage. “Just let us finish our bananas, Klaus.”

Five materializes next to them. “Ben, you’re a fucking distraction.”

Claire laughs so loud she almost falls over.

(Diego kind of _has_ to smile.)

“How do you guys do it?” asks Luther. He’s pouring his cereal.

Diego finds their last whole-milk gallon. Claire drinks these. It’s almost empty — he might as well finish it. “Do what?” Luther just makes a pointed face. “Hey. It’s not like she’s my kid.” He keeps his voice down. Kids hear fucking pencil shavings. “It’s not like she’s your kid.”

“But she kind of _is_ ,” Luther says. Diego puts the fucking milk fucking down. “She’s also kind of _your_ kid. And Klaus’s. And — and Vanya’s. And Ben’s.” Oh, thank the fucking Lord. Once more. Okay. It was just a fifteen-year-old adolescent thing. Okay. “She’s growing up with two moms and five dads who don’t have a _clue._ Plusa robotnanny and a monkey butler _.”_

He’s not lying. “Is there a problem?” Wait. No. That’s not what he wanted to say.

“Diego, we kill people,” he says. Would it fucking kill _him_ to lower his goddamned _voice?_ Okay. Luther picks up the message and whispers. “For a _living_.”

Do they have yogurt left? Only the Danimals kind. “Fucking _bad_ people, Luther.”

“Who’s to say?” he asks.

“The _bad_ people.” Everything in their fucking pantry has Dora the Explorer on it. Wait, there’s Ni-Hao Kai-Lan in here, too. “You’re just — scared.” He can’t articulate it exactly.

“What?”

“We’re not like him,” Diego says.

The bastard eats his cereal dry. “We’re not going to die on her.”

That’s not what he meant. But Luther doesn’t get it when it comes to their dad. “Well.” What does that fucking add? “We need to go to the grocery store.”

* * *

Five’s manning the baby carrier. Claire’s already three, but she’s smaller than the charts say she should be, and the carrier is enough to fit her. (And Five fucking loves the glory.)

“We need oranges,” says Diego. He has a list. It’s pretty much the same one every time. “Milk. We need half of it to be whole milk. Oreos. The Double-Stuf kind. Ice cream.” Cheese slices, too. But Claire hates cheese, for some weird, specific reason, so Diego isn’t going to say that out loud. “Eggs. Hot Pockets. Lunchables. Spam. And ham.”

Klaus interrupts. “We need more chicken nuggets. That’s important for children.”

“Frozen peas,” Diego goes on. “Assorted vegetables.” There’s a separate section of the list for fruits. “Gauze. Band-aids with Hello Kitty on them. Mac n’ —” not today. ‘Cheese’ is not a word. “Electrical tape. Salt. Fishing wire. Duct tape. We need a new Keurig, actually.” Their old one sputters. “Um. Neutrogena. Nail-polish remover. Hydrogen peroxide. Gummy vitamins. Laundry detergent. Tampons. Pads. The overnight ones, too. And, uh.” They added something. “Vanya wants new earphones.”  

Ben pushes the cart. “You want to sit here, Claire-Bear?” he asks.

“No, she doesn’t,” says Five.

* * *

There’s a little clothing section at this grocery store. 

Allison’s going to fucking flip at the amount of fucking socks they’ve gotten.

But Luther took the tab. And it’s going to be a fucking riot seeing Pogo chasing Claire around. In her new socks, at that. 

* * *

Claire’s supposed to practice violin for an hour every day. Vanya’s her normal teacher, but given that she isn’t here, the five of them are just going to supervise. Vanya told them to send pictures and not fuck around.

“What are you learning?” Ben asks. “Prodigy stuff. You always hear Aunt Vanya play, right? Who’s he called? Sybil? Sibelius?”

“Hot Cross Buns,” Claire says.

Klaus gives her a high-five.

* * *

They call it fucking quits after fifteen minutes.

They do send pictures to Vanya, though.

* * *

Diego installs their new Keurig the next morning. It makes a jingle. He hopes it makes them some fucking coffee.

“What do you think they’re doing right now?” Luther says.

Klaus has his feet up on the table. Five swats the newspaper at him. “Maybe,” says Klaus. “They’re going all fucking, _pew-pew_. Vanya’s definitely merc-ing bitches. And Allison’s probably all, ‘Rumor me this, Rumorer. I heard a rumor, rumor.’”

“Mom says that to me.” It’s Claire. Diego hadn’t gone to wake her up yet. Why’s she here? “She says that to me, but it doesn’t work always.”

Wait. Hold on.

Wait, did —

No way.

Oh, fuck.

“ _What?_ ” says Luther.

“Claire-Bear,” says Ben.

Fuck. That’s not — what’s she doing here? _Fuck._ And — _Allison._ Oh, God. Oh, God. They said they wouldn’t _be_ like him. They said they’d only take the good. They said they wouldn’t be anything like their father.

Diego crouches down to her height. “Claire.” He doesn’t know how he’s going to say it. “What does she say? Your mother, what does she _say?_ ” He puts his hands on her shoulders. “Claire.” That’s not how he wants to say it. That’s not how he wants to say it. “ _Claire_.”

She stares at him.

Her eyes are wide.

Claire starts to cry.

“Shit,” says Luther, standing up.

Ben’s covering his face. “Diego, what did you…”

“Goddammit, Diego, she’s _three,”_ says Five.

“All right,” says Klaus. “Let’s fucking damage-control, I guess.”

Fuck. Fucking — oh, God.

They said they wouldn’t be anything like their father.

* * *

He needs her to pick up the phone. He needs her to pick up the phone. He needs her to pick up the phone —

Allison picks up the phone.

Fucking — Goddammit. Goddammit, Allison. Doesn’t she know she has help? She has a whole fucking array. She doesn’t have to — _God._

“Diego,” she’s saying. “How was the first day out? We’re at the hotel. Vanya’s not in. She’s out trying to bring down some the clubs in Marseilles. We might have to do some autopsies on some perpetrators, so we’ll ask your opinion. You’re good at covert stuff. How are you? Any disaster yet?” God. God. He doesn’t know. “Oh, God. Thanks for picking up groceries. I forgot to say. But — yeah.”

Fucking _Allison_.

(Fucking bus stop dude.)

None of them were up for it.

“Just,” says Diego. “Stop — stop rumoring your kid.”

The line, for a second, sound dead.

“Oh, my God,” Allison says. “Diego, I.”

Yeah. Yeah. Fucking. “Allison.”

“Oh, my God. I’m so — can we talk about this? Please. I just — I told Vanya, and —”

“You told Vanya.” This isn’t helping. Nothing is helping. “And she told you exactly what I’m going to tell you, I fucking bet. So why...”

Silence again. Fucking.

“Diego.”

But he hangs up.

* * *

[“I hate him,” Allison says. They all follow her up the stairs and into her room. Diego doesn’t want her to fucking run away. “I fucking — why would he _say_ that?”

Then Luther grabs her arm. “Dad didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t — it’s not what he intended —”

“Luther,” says Klaus, says Ben.

“Allison,” says Diego, says Vanya.

“I don’t care what he _mean,_ ” says Allison. “I don’t care about his — intentions. It’s what he did. It’s what he _told_ us. Intentions don’t _matter_.” She sinks to the ground and sits. They join her. “I’ll forgive him later. But that’s not right now.”]

* * *

Claire’s okay. As a matter of fact, she’s great. Five’s playing with her, and she’s beaming as she should be. She’s up on Luther’s shoulders. It’s tag, Diego thinks. Five teleports away when they’re about to get him. (And over in the kitchen, Ben and Klaus are microwaving chicken nuggets.)

The trio gets tired. Five ends up taking a nap. Luther puts their niece on the floor.

“Honey,” says Diego. Immediately, Claire covers her ears. (Hargreeves really do hold a grudge.) “Honey, I’m so sorry.”

She heard him.

Kids always hear everything.

Claire starts crying again.

She runs towards him.

Diego goes to pick her up.

* * *

Allison and Vanya come home.

Diego just kind of goes to hug them.

And the rest of them come, too.

A seven-pointed circle. (Circles have no fucking points.)

“ _Mommy! Auntie!_ ”

Claire makes it eight.

She’s in this family, too.

* * *

He treats them all to Japanese food. Mrs. Kudo’s giving them mochi later.

It’s not a _pissed_ day. It’s not a _drunk_ day, or a _broken_ _bones_ day, or an _asshole_ _ex_ day, or a _crying_ day. Maybe it’s just a day. Maybe — Japanese food.

Allison talks to him outside for a bit.

The weather’s kind of low, and the sun is setting.

“Why’d you buy so many socks?” says Allison. All right. Fair enough. It makes them even, sort of. Not really. Not at all. “I don’t know if I’m doing it right. I’m _not_ doing it right. I mean…”

“I know.” They’re not fit for this. But here they are, filling the space. “I get it, I think.” He looks inside, through the window. Vanya’s teaching Claire how to use chopsticks. Klaus is catching shrimp in midair — and Claire is very impressed. Luther’s picking up all the food she’s dropping. Five makes sure that she’s got a napkin in her lap. Ben is telling her a story. “You’ve got us,” he says. “And. Yeah.”

* * *

Both he and Claire fall asleep in the car.

**Author's Note:**

> [I’m doing this with all my fics I guess but this is Diego and Japanese food](https://youtu.be/UbivptXbkXs)   
>  [let’s go crazy on Tumblr and talk about hand creams](https://kaulayau.tumblr.com)
> 
> [also come hang out at our Umbrella-Academy Discord Server and discuss the merits of a very well-spoken monkey man](https://discord.gg/muPgAGv)
> 
> thank you and I love you


End file.
